She laughs, delighted at his attempt to describe the color, and claps her hands. She never imagined she’d be lying in a hammock playing twenty questions with a bearded mountain man, but here she is.
She likes it. Learning more about the man that is Solomon Wilder.
He says nothing, only pulls her into his arms and kisses her temple. She curls up against him, tossing a tan leg over his hip to accommodate her bump.
Yesterday morning, his offer to change their arrangements had her wanting to stomp on it with the toe of her high heel shoe. . .but she didn’t. She couldn’t. Because, against everything, she wanted him to stay too.
Now, she and Solomon are in sync. It happened wordlessly, without discussion, a come to Jesus, a come together moment. The way he backed her up, the way he’s staying. She’s never felt so calm, so confident in her decision to just be.
The only checklist she wants to make is a list of places where Solomon’s mouth needs to be.
She should be petrified, terrified, shitting her type-A brains out, surfing the internet for a new job, but all she can think about is free. She’s free. And wild. That girl she was six months ago, who gave no shits, who swung like a boss and took risks. It thrills her.
No Atlas breathing down her neck, no worries. Enjoying her baby, her body, and damn good sex.
But quitting her job doesn’t mean she can just throw caution to the wind and shirk her responsibilities. Sure, she and Solomon have a perfectly nice, perfectly easy arrangement, but it’s only for four more days.
They’re friends with tropical vacation benefits.
This, them, whatever it is, is off limits.
“What about you?”
Tessie startles and raises her head to find Solomon scrutinizing her, his brows lifted in expectation.
“What about me?”
“Favorite color?”
“Ugh.” She wrinkles her nose. “How much time do you have? Okay, okay. . .if I had to choose, it would be—No, I can’t. I can’t choose.” Bottom lip stuck out, she pouts dramatically. “Ask me something else. Anything else.”
An evil smile appears on his bearded face. “Tell me Bear’s name.”
“No!” She pokes a finger in his side, earning a grump of protest. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
He rolls his eyes. “Mature.”
“Fine, fine, fine. If you want me to confess something, I will.” She bites her lip. “But you might hate me.”
“Tess,” he growls, watching her with varying levels of worry and suspicion.
“I did it.” She scrunches her nose and then laughs. “I lied to you. I stole your shirt.”
His laugh is explosive, husky, and it shakes the hammock. “Tess, baby,” he says, kissing her brow. “I had no doubt about that.”
A shiver racing down her spine, she palms his cheek, admiring the rare smile gracing his face. “I like this.”
“Like what?”
“Your smile.”
With a grunt, he kisses her again, wraps an arm around her waist, and says, “Hold on.”
Swiftly, Solomon moves, but before the hammock can flip, he steadies it. With his hands on her arms, he helps her carefully sit up in a swing-like position.
Tessie kicks sand in his direction. “Add that to the list of things you do right. Getting out of a hammock without toppling it.”
“Precious cargo,” Solomon says, giving Tessie a look so intense her heart puddles. “Got to.”
“Oh,” she squeaks, a dreamy sensation filling her up inside. Can this man go one single day without saying something that makes her melt?
There’s a rustle of movement as a server appears. In his hands, a tray of sandwiches, fries, and ice-cold drinks—beer for Solomon and a virgin mojito for Tessie. Solomon tips the server, then, instead of reaching for his drink, reaches for Tessie’s.
She smirks at him. “Are you like one of those Middle Ages tasters?”
He scowls, caught.
She leans forward, amused. “What if it’s poisoned?”
“I’ll take my chances,” he says and then takes a giant gulp. After a second, he hands it over.
“My hero.” She takes a sip. Bubbly and refreshing. She rests a hand on her stomach as the hammock sways. “Bear likes the rocking.”
Solomon rests his broad palm on her stomach. His dark brows rise. “Kid’s kicking like a ninja.”
“He’s a tiny little Wild Man,” Tessie murmurs, tracing a finger over Solomon’s muscular forearm. His dusting of dark hair has her wondering.
“Were you blond when you were a baby?” she asks, peeking up at him.
He chuckles. His craggy face breaks into a smile. “No,” he says, lifting a fry in the air, offering it to her. “Everyone in my family is black-haired and blue-eyed.”
“Like the Galway Girl.” Tessie smiles and opens her mouth, accepting the fry he feeds her. As she chews, her brain churns, cranking out images of her son and Solomon. A beautiful baby boy with dark hair. Brown eyes or blue, she doesn’t care. Just healthy and happy and theirs.
Her fingers trace the colorful designs on Solomon’s beefy biceps. “Will you let Bear get tattoos?” she asks.
Solomon nods slowly. “When he’s eighteen. Then he can go crazy like I did.”
They eat in silence for a few minutes. The crash of the ocean, the burn of the sun, the slow sway of palm trees in the salty breeze.
Solomon’s strong hand drops to her hip, palming the low curve of her stomach. “You feeling okay? About your job?”
She swallows hard, chokes down the nerves creeping up on her. “Oh, a freak-out is imminent, but right now, I’m all about in-the-moment.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder. She’s had other offers. Maybe finding a job she loves will be hard, but finding one less toxic than Atlas Rose Design should be a cinch. “Although getting hired while pregnant might be a bitch.” She marvels at her stomach, palming her bud, and smiles at Bear. “But we can do it. Can’t we?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
His voice, fierce, gruff, has her looking up. There’s that we again.
“We will?”
No hesitation in his answer, he says, “Yeah. Damn right we will.”
We.
Are they a we? Is she ready for we?
They finish their meals, their drinks, and then crawl back into the hammock. Tessie curls up on Solomon’s chest. One of his big hands makes lazy caresses up her spine while the other is permanently glued to her belly.
His breath tickles her hair. “You feel like staying in or going out tonight?”
Staying in. The only activity she’s game for involves a bed and Solomon. With the exception of the hammock, they haven’t left the room since Atlas tucked tail and ran.
She stretches out on the mountain of a man’s giant body, curling up like a cat in the sun. “Staying in,” she yawns. “But we should go out one day, right?”
He chuckles, slipping a hand under her chin to bring her lips to his. His irises darken as he looks at her. Lust mixed with something she can’t quite place. Does she want to place it? To name his feelings would give voice to all her fears. Everything she’s been trying to avoid since her mother died. And she can’t do it. Not yet.
“Anything you want,” Solomon says with such solemnity that for a long second, it steals her breath, her heart. “You got it, Tessie.”
And she believes him. Really and truly believes it. If she asked Solomon to slay, to kill, to steal for her and Bear, he would.
She inclines her head so she can study him. Her belly warms. She could study his chiseled face all day. Thick brows. Mussed dark hair. Square jaw. Stern. Solemn. Handsome.
She gives a casual shrug. “I saw something about dinner and dancing.” An advertisement on the in-room television. A fiesta extravaganza!
His throat bobs. “Dancing?”
She wets her lips. “Tomorrow night at the Pavilions. We could go,” she says, going for as uninterested as possible.
“I have two left feet.”
“I remember.” She rubs her stomach. “I’m not exactly a pillar of balance these days myself.”
He smiles down at her, his dark blue eyes softening. “Whatever you want, Tess. You just tell me.”